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  Chapter 137: Another Free Skin Unlocked

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  Xanthia spent her Saturday in high spirits, albeit with a hint of fatigue. After all, she had pushed herself to the limit at the ice rink, all in the pursuit of earning the coveted skill tag, "Light as a Feather."

  That evening, she indulged in a rare te-night gaming session. How could she resist when her test blind box had gifted her a "Nightmare Phone," which was simply too entertaining to put down?

  Since Sunday was reserved for a good lie-in, she figured there was no harm in staying up. Sometimes, the joy of a te-night spree far outweighs the comfort of an early bedtime.

  Of course, such indulgence can’t be a daily affair. If it becomes routine, it ceases to be indulgence at all. Staying up every night is the same as never staying up; it’s a paradox that only those who've experienced it truly understand.

  An occasional sleep-in, however, can be immensely satisfying.

  On Sunday morning, after zily rousing herself, Xanthia received a message from Dionysius, her brother. He inquired after her health, particurly asking if the bruises from her skating mishaps had healed.

  At home, Xanthia had a habit of sleeping naked, finding it far more comfortable. Her body was as clean as a whistle, and with her bed meticulously maintained by her maid mode outfit—a pristine white silk maid uniform—everything remained spotless and fresh.

  Naked sleeping, she found, offered a greater sense of comfort, and so it gradually became her routine.

  The curtains in her room were drawn tightly, shielding her from the outside world, as she flicked on the bright overhead light and checked her body in the full-length mirror beside her bed. All traces of bruising had disappeared, leaving behind fwless, snow-white skin, delicately tinged with a blush of pink—so tender, so exquisite. It was a beauty she could only relish by herself.

  After the inspection, Xanthia truthfully replied to her brother that she was feeling perfectly fine.

  With the "Sturdy" attribute in her arsenal, her recovery rate was nothing short of miraculous. Even if she couldn’t win, her stamina alone would wear down her opponents. Her confidence, born from her physical prowess, was unshakable.

  Yet, Dionysius, still influenced by Dematero's cautious demeanor, suspected she was simply putting on a brave face. After all, bruises didn’t usually heal so quickly.

  Still, he didn’t press her on the matter and instead brought up the art studio he had prepared for her.

  When Xanthia first heard about this "art studio," she was utterly baffled. What did she need an art studio for?

  Since obtaining the "Horror Brush," she hadn’t even considered using it for traditional art forms like oil painting or ink wash. Instead, she had put it to use in her preferred way: sketching lewd, two-dimensional fan art.

  She didn’t even need traditional canvas or paper, having transformed the "Horror Brush" into a complete digital art setup. The explicit illustrations she created appeared directly on her computer screen, far more convenient than conventional methods.

  Who had time for traditional art in this day and age?

  Despite her initial confusion, she didn’t refuse Dionysius’s kind gesture. After all, it would be a shame to limit the "Horror Brush" solely to risque art. She was curious to see the true extent of its power—what dark and terrifying imagery it could conjure.

  One thing she was certain of: no matter how horrifying the image, it wouldn’t scare her. It was like eating her own food—delicious but devoid of any emotional recoil.

  As for Dematero’s literary works, she had little interest in them. Even if she happened to gnce at one, it wouldn’t leave much of an impression.

  In fact, if his writing was particurly adept at extracting pain from its readers, she might even use the "Horror Brush" to assist in illustrating his twisted visions. After all, the credit for any anguish it caused would go to the "original author," Dematero. She, the innocent illustrator, would simply enjoy the extra pain points generated—how delightful!

  After accepting Dionysius’s offer of an art studio, Xanthia turned the conversation back on him, casually inquiring about his day and subtly probing where he had gone to have fun the previous night.

  Dionysius was touched. His sister, who had never shown much interest in him before, was now genuinely asking about his wellbeing. It was unprecedented! But the uncertainty about her mental state still left him uneasy. Her clinically diagnosed depression was like a ticking time bomb, constantly weighing on his mind.

  He reassured her that he’d had a great time, openly admitting that Dematero, the genius young author from her css, had treated him to a barbecue, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

  Xanthia’s first reaction was immediate—so it was Dematero, the source of pain, who had kicked off the wave of anguish for her brother st night!

  Her second reaction was a realization. Without needing Dionysius to expin further, she correctly deduced the real source of his pain points—Dematero had shared memories of the future with him.

  Upon learning that Xanthia was destined for an early death, it was no wonder Dionysius had been flooded with pain points!

  Xanthia couldn’t help but acknowledge that Dematero’s ability to gather pain points had far surpassed her "Little Flying Bug." After all, she only deployed the bug when she encountered something or someone particurly irksome.

  Yesterday, however, had been a special case. Testing Dionysius’s new skill had been her reward for him. After passing the "Voice of Truth" test, he had fully earned her approval.

  Moving forward, Xanthia wouldn’t use the "Voice of Truth" when dealing with others alone; instead, she’d prefer to manipute events from behind the scenes.

  The skill was, in essence, a masterful tool for stoking the fmes of chaos.

  And for someone like Xanthia, who thrived on watching drama unfold, escating a situation and then sitting back to enjoy the spectacle was second nature. Online, trolls thrived on creating such drama, emboldened by their anonymity. But Xanthia could do it in real life, making people spill the truth without a care for the consequences—what could be more entertaining?

  After confirming the details of the art studio, Dionysius ended their conversation, satisfied. He eagerly awaited the day when her artwork would reveal her true mental state.

  As for Xanthia, she spent the final day of her weekend in her usual leisurely manner.

  She zed in bed until noon before strolling out of her apartment and heading to Cardinali Pza next door, where she casually picked a restaurant to have lunch. Afterward, she treated herself to a cup of apple tea—extra sweet, of course. She had no concerns about high sugar or calories.

  Later in the afternoon, she went to see an action-packed film, full of bone-crunching fight scenes. It left her feeling exhirated, her happiness meter ticking upward.

  But, as was customary at Thessaloniki First High School, Sunday evening meant returning to school for evening self-study. The boarding students had already started filtering back by the afternoon.

  After the movie, Xanthia hopped on a bus and headed back to school.

  Unlike her fellow students, who often returned with heavy hearts at the end of a break, dreading unfinished homework and the weight of another week, Xanthia felt none of that. She had already finished her assignments. With the "Study Master" and "Wisdom Root" attributes, her efficiency was leagues beyond her peers.

  For her, school was just another pyground, and her css, High School Year 1, Css 3, was filled with interesting personalities—there was never a dull moment. She absolutely adored it!

  When she arrived in the cssroom, most of her cssmates were busy in a frenzy of st-minute homework, some earnestly discussing difficult problems, while others simply copied answers indiscriminately. As long as the worksheets were filled, it counted as a job well done.

  With no one paying her much attention, Xanthia decided to continue reading the manga magazine she’d bought earlier. But before diving into it, she instinctively gnced at her system’s task list, just to check if any new high-value missions had popped up.

  Since it was the start of a new month, it was about time the system offered up some welfare tasks. Last time, she had completed a task reted to canteen offering and had been rewarded with a purple-tier outfit: the white-silk maid uniform.

  Sure enough, after a quick scan, she found a new welfare task. This one was called "Soul of Chuunibyo." The task? To draw a self-portrait of her in her most chūnibyo form. The reward? A blue-tier gothic lolita outfit, red and bck in color.

  Although the blue-quality outfit left Xanthia feeling somewhat dissatisfied, given that she already owned two purple-quality outfits, she decided to make the most of it. One of her previous outfits, a white silk maid costume, had special functions, while the JK uniform radiated an innocent charm, greatly enhancing her appearance and charisma. Both were versatile enough to be worn casually outside. Still, this new outfit didn’t quite live up to the same standard.

  However, the welfare mission involving drawing a "self-portrait" was almost ughably easy. Even without her "Horror Brush," she could have simply sketched a stick figure, ciming it to represent her middle-school edgy persona, and it would have sufficed to complete the task.

  Therefore, the Gothic Lolita dress she received from this mission felt like a freebie. Really, who could compin about a gift, however imperfect?

  As she gazed at the dress, it occurred to her that its appearance was more suited for a formal gown. Given that she cked this style of clothing in her wardrobe, Xanthia was actually quite pleased to have obtained it through such a simple task.

  Another bonus was unlocking a new skin soon. Though it was merely a "Hero" skin, a tier below the other two "Epic" skins she already had, she reminded herself of the golden rule—anything obtained for free was a win!

  Xanthia, being a bit of an impatient kid when it came to acquiring skins and outfits, didn't even bother finishing the manga she was reading. She immediately decided to head to the school’s bookstore to purchase a sketchbook. Once she had it, she'd use her 'Little Mischievous Pen' to create an edgy, "Kurumi Tokisaki-inspired" version of herself. In the drawing, she'd dress in the bck-and-red Gothic Lolita outfit and style her hair into twin-tails.

  She imagined herself as this twin-tailed, mad yet charming figure, thinking it perfectly encapsuted the ideal edgy persona she'd envisioned.

  As Xanthia left the cssroom to head to the bookstore, Dematero entered, having arrived in the provincial capital the day before. He and Dionysius had enjoyed a hearty dinner, discussing grand pns for the future over drinks.

  Although Dematero had paid for the barbecue, Dionysius, of course, sorted out the accommodation. He’d brought Dematero back to his own vil, offering him a guest room.

  It wasn’t unusual for Dionysius’s parents to be away—practically never staying at home, especially on weekends. Where they disappeared to was anyone’s guess. If Dionysius wanted, he could have brought a girl home for some wild, indulgent fun. But, as, the campus crush was known for his ascetic lifestyle, a gentleman amongst men, not easily tempted by beauty. He preferred to invite close male friends to stay overnight at his vil. His servants were more than used to this particur habit of their young master.

  Yet, even the servants were surprised by Dematero's familiarity. Despite his slightly drunken state, Dematero navigated the vil as though he were returning to his own home.

  Clearly, in the "previous life," Dematero had long been accustomed to pying the role of Dionysius’s “trusted guest,” staying overnight at the Dionysius's home frequently.

  Dionysius, witnessing this, couldn't help but smile knowingly. He hadn’t drunk quite as much as Dematero, and seeing how well they got along, he felt more certain than ever about the bond they’d share in the future. Dematero, this cunning strategist, was already becoming a key pyer in his circle.

  Though, in reality, if one overlooked Dematero’s writing talents, it was nothing but destined to cause trouble for Dionysius. The most significant evidence of this was Dematero’s clever, yet ill-advised idea to interpret Xanthia’s mental state through her artwork—an approach bound to create future complications.

  Dematero had slept blissfully in the vil’s guest room the previous night. When he awoke, he felt completely refreshed. Compared to his past life, it felt as though he had fast-forwarded years ahead, already mingling with the campus crush boy. Life was comfortable.

  Even coming to Thessaloniki First High, he’d arrived in style, riding in Dionysius’s Rolls-Royce Phantom. Clinging to a powerful benefactor certainly felt wonderful.

  Still, Dematero wasn’t the type to let his newfound fortune infte his ego. He knew that all of this was thanks to Xanthia’s goodwill, and he vowed to repay her properly in the future.

  Additionally, Dematero had now become Dionysius’s most reliable informant in Css 1-3. After all, their heart-to-heart the previous night had solidified their alliance—like achieving the world-dominion together.

  Dionysius also understood how much Dematero cared about Xanthia. Compared to the “noble boy” Marcus, Dematero was far more dependable.

  Marcus was clueless about Xanthia’s true nature. He even believed that Xanthia was a hidden, powerful figure, stronger than Dionysius. How could she possibly be bullied?

  Besides, Xanthia had her own protector in the form of the notorious leader, Luciel, who sat in front of her. With that kind of backup, no one would dare y a finger on Xanthia.

  When Dematero arrived back at school, he felt a sense of superiority. Over the weekend, he’d completed all his homework, avoiding his usual procrastination.

  Thanks to his adult-level self-discipline, Dematero knew that as long as he stayed focused on his studies and combined that discipline with his youthful brain, his grades wouldn’t suffer any further.

  The only downside? The diligent students surrounding him didn’t need to borrow his holiday homework to copy. This left him feeling as though something was missing.

  In front of him sat Lilim, the css vice-president and disciplinary officer. She turned around to borrow his homework but only wanted to compare answers.

  Lilim was the type of student who needed to check her answers meticulously, as if ensuring perfect scores on assignments soothed some deep-seated compulsion.

  But don’t be concerned that such meticulousness masked any gaps in her understanding. On the contrary, whenever she identified mistakes in her answers, she’d immediately jot them down in her error notebook, ensuring they were properly categorized.

  She prided herself on presenting fwless work to the teacher, while any incorrect answers were corrected long before submission. As a result, her notes often became the gold standard during css demonstrations—a source of great joy for her.

  She frequently thought to herself, 'Even if I can’t outperform the top students in exams, I bet none of them can achieve my level of accuracy in assignments!'

  After all, being the “practice match champion” still counted for something.

  Who said a practice match victory didn’t count? Ensuring 100% correctness on assignments was a badge of honor in its own right.

  After borrowing Dematero’s homework, Lilim couldn’t help but tease him, “Dematero, I thought you of all people would have left your holiday homework undone. Have you finally turned over a new leaf?”

  Dematero chuckled. “Last month’s exam was a real wake-up call. I had to reflect and make some changes.”

  Lilim nodded approvingly. “Good, good! Learning from past mistakes is important. I’ve noticed some real improvement in your attitude tely. I believe you’ll ace the midterms!”

  “Thanks,” Dematero replied nonchantly. “I’m sure you’ll do well too.”

  He didn’t need anyone’s validation anymore.

  Lilim, who used to be rather indifferent toward him, had changed her tune after his novel’s publication. Though she was tactful enough not to bring up the novel, instead praising his academic efforts, her shift in attitude didn’t impress Dematero.

  Only Xanthia had consistently believed in him, whether he succeeded or failed, fought or gave up. She trusted him unconditionally and treated him with kindness no matter what.

  Sensing Dematero’s aloofness, Lilim mentally scoffed. 'Hmph, let’s see if you can live up to this arrogance in the next midterms.'

  Before long, Xanthia returned to the cssroom, sketchbook in hand. She had entered through the back door and, to her surprise, overheard a juicy piece of gossip:

  “Did you hear? We’re getting a transfer student tomorrow!”

  “What? A transfer student? You mean one of those cssic anime-type transfer girls?”

  “Pfft, dream on. The transfer student’s a guy. Apparently, he got expelled from Thessaloniki Foreign Languages High School…”

  “What?! Why would we even accept that kind of trash? And why did he get expelled?”

  “Rumor has it he offended the eldest daughter of the Papadopoulos familia, Susan La Papadopoulos, by shamelessly pursuing her. Cssic case of a thief maddening over a safe. But I hear his familia’s quite powerful. Not sure if our campus crush will be able to hold the fort against this new big fish.”